A Writer's Journey

Maybe this time I won’t forget.

My heart has been broken again. It’s been a while since I let someone in like that. It’s easy to get lost in the idea of someone. Had me confessing feelings in my diary. I always have hopeful wishing, especially in matters of the heart. Maybe it’s my tendency as a writer, but I plot out what will happen and act surprised when it doesn’t go to plan. Ooooo– twist ending!!

But is it? I saw this coming miles ahead. I couldn’t have placed the foreshadows better myself.

Why do we ignore the signs?

Caution!!
Ooookay, we say as we drive carelessly on.

Maybe it’s because I was raised a girl and since then my main fantasy has included boys. Do little boys have pretend girlfriends, too? I meet someone I’m drawn to and automatically wonder if they could…
could…
what? fill this role? this hole in my life? Are we dependant and obsessed with romance because we’re unhappy with ourselves?
So we call people and use them like trash just so we don’t have to spend a night alone.

We’re still kids, afraid of being left alone in the dark.

I’m over it. Or… I’m getting over it. My heart still sinks at the thought of him. But that’s the clumsy body stumbling after my mind and determination. It’s a little slow but it’ll catch up,
(Lindsey, read that again. I know you’ll read through your words probably tomorrow and tomorrow morning you’ll need to be reminded.)

I write these things so I don’t forget.

Tonight I took a tab of ecstasy and was so depressed that it leveled me out to my usual chipper attitude. I’m riding the last of it now, sitting in my car after dancing, texting to my blog instead of dumb boys.